Four and Twenty Blackbirds
by BuboMuzziusFTW
Summary: Now back in London after years in exile, Gilbert Beilschmidt reopens a barber shop on Fleet Street, just above the pie shop owned by Ms. Elizabeta Héderváry. But news of his now dead wife, the state of his daughter, and a few other chance encounters with people involved in his dark past set Gilbert on a bloodthirsty quest for revenge. So… How about a shave?


Feliciano was beaming as usual, despite the darkness of the dimly lit galley and night that surrounded him and the rest of the ship. He'd been out to sea much too long; so long, there wasn't even anything decent left to cook, and hungry sailors were scary. The Italian shuddered at the thought, but they were coming into port, and he could finally go ashore, and stay for longer than a week! So why wouldn't he be excited?

The cook flounced across the galley and onto the strategically placed stool to reach up and pull at the hunk of wax that had been fitted to the small opening high in the wall of the ship where a bit of wood had fallen out, just a little behind where a board was attached to the one below it. It seemed to Feli that it was high enough in the hull that water would hardly be able to get through it. And at that moment it would probably hold the perfect view of the London port. The familiar image of the city outline against the stars only made Feli's smile widen.

It was still impressive to Feli that Mr. Gilbert Beilschmidt had noticed it the very first time he had stepped into the galley, but it was still a pity he'd immediately wanted it patched up. He'd never noticed it before, but now that it was gone, and he wasn't allowed up on deck unless he was going ashore, and since pretty much no one else wanted to talk to him, since he was the cook and lately, hadn't been feeding them that much at all, he had been feeling awfully lonely. Was it his fault they hadn't brought enough supplies? Or that he was clumsy anyway, and still hadn't gotten his sea legs? Feli pouted a bit at this, but soon shrugged it off and went back up on his toes to try to pry the wax from its place.

That was when the ship shifted, causing Feli to come tumbling down off his stool with a squeak, only to land on someone's muscular chest. As terrified as the young cook was, the elder man caught him easily, and set him quickly back on his feet with a short laugh. Feli almost couldn't bring himself to look at the person. If it was one the sailors, or the captain especially, then he'd only be less liked, and then, well, who knew what then.

"What were you trying to do now? Watch yourself now, can't have you hurt the day you go home."

"Mr. Beilschmidt! I'm so sorry, I just wanted to see the city, but then I fell off the stool and-"

Gilbert smiled a bit as Feli abandoned his words and hugged him, sighing as he peeled the cook off of him a few minutes later. By that point, the same brilliant smile had once again made itself present, causing Gilbert to briefly ponder for about the millionth time how anyone could ever always be so happy. True, he was barely more than a boy, and never had anything gone drastically wrong for him, but it would have to be a very dark day if Feliciano ever lost his happy-go-lucky attitude.

"You're awfully energetic. What's gotten into you?"

"London! I've been on board for a couple years, now, and isn't it just so wonderful to be back? Really, I've sailed the world and seen all sorts of pretty places, but there isn't a single place like it in the entire world! I just love how…"

A dark, sarcastic chuckle came quietly from Gilbert's throat as he leaned back against the doorframe, only half-listening to Feli's ranting.

"Well, I'll give you that," the albino muttered to himself as soon as the other stopped talking for long enough to take a breath, rolling his eyes. "There isn't any place like it."

Then, it still somehow surprised Gilbert that Feli had stopped talking and was giving him a confused, almost worried look, staring right into his eyes in a way that only honest souls could when he looked back at him. The man did all he could to keep the eye contact, but after some time he felt that he had to look away, and cast his eyes downwards with a sigh.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Beilschmidt?"

Another sigh. Feli just noticed how common those had become as they drew nearer to port. Not that Mr. Beilschmidt had ever been incredibly cheery, but he had never been so depressed in all the time they known each other. He'd seemed so relieved and excited that they were headed to London when they'd found him floating on that raft, just a few leagues off Australia.

Gilbert just shook his head, his eyes distant. "Nothing for you to worry yourself about. You're too young to know the pains of life and the people in it." Shaking his head again, he blinked a few times to refocus his vision, and crossed the galley to stand in front of the filled-in hole in the hull, raising an eyebrow at the marks in the edges where Feli had tried to pull it out.

"But you'll learn. London is the perfect place to learn that."

Turning quickly on his heel, the older man sat on the stool with yet another sigh. When he lifted his eyes from his hands, Feli was kneeling at his side, his face all concerned again.

"You sure? You don't seem, well…"

"I'm fine. …Any sort of drink you might have would be lovely, though."

With a quick nod, the other was off again, glancing through cabinets and eventually throwing him an already half empty bottle of what was presumably rum, which Gilbert graciously accepted.

After taking a long drink, Gilbert just stared at the remaining contents of the bottle before setting it down beside him, then looked up to find Feli staring back at him expectantly.

"This is where I'm supposed to give you some mysterious advice that is going to vaguely help you out in the future, isn't it…" He rolled his eyes at Feli's small, enthusiastic nod, looking downwards again and gritting his teeth a bit. "Well, damn it all, I couldn't care less. There's no vagueness in London. You see, London is just a deep, dark pit of greed, theft, and, well, whatever other evils a city you can find in a city. No morals, just wanting, doing whatever you can, and either getting what you want or having it taken from you by the privileged few who have some sort of power over the rest."

Gilbert found himself suddenly glaring down at tight, quivering fists. Blinking once or twice, he opened his hands slowly, and reached for the bottle, which chose that moment to fall and roll away from him as the boat moved. His eyes followed it to where Feli stopped it with his foot, having grabbed onto a corner of the stove to keep his own balance. The cook then picked it up and put it away in a different place then he'd gotten it, Gilbert noted, before glancing back over at him with sad, pitying eyes.

A sudden silence had fallen over the two of them, and as easy as it was for Gilbert to lean back against the wall behind him, trying to calm himself, Feli thought of something and managed to wait until it felt like it was actually killing him before saying it, much more loudly and quickly as he'd intended.

"Um, Mr. Beilschmidt? How come you're always so quiet at dinner?"

"What?"

Feli turned to face him, leaning back against a bit of counter and looking straight at him again. He was clearly at least a bit scared, but still was confused enough to try to ask something.

"Everyone else has told a story or two. And you're even older than the captain."

"A story? Is that what you're after?" Gilbert rolled his eyes, smiling to himself a bit sadly as he leaned back against the ship's wall again. "Let's see. Where to start…"


End file.
